


A Swiftly Changing World

by misstriplem



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan/OC - Freeform, F/M, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misstriplem/pseuds/misstriplem
Summary: Arthur Morgan must find a way to deal with the fact that his daughter, Annie, is getting married.





	A Swiftly Changing World

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an AU where Arthur never contracts tuberculosis. Also features my OC from The Outlaw and the Outlier.

There was a time when Arthur Morgan thought the world didn’t move fast enough.

He’d spent years living every moment between sunrise and sunset as though they were his last. Every time Dutch and Hosea tried to rein him in, to bring him back down to more sensible proclivities, Arthur railed against them. He wanted no bonds holding him to the world that had been nothing but cruel to him. Arthur took everything he could and spared no thought for giving anything back.

Even Mary Gillis hadn’t been quite enough to tame his wild rage. Arthur had wanted her to be enough, but in the end, he couldn’t let go of the feeling that the world owed him much more than it was willing to pay back.

Arthur took a long drag on the cigarette and blew out a long, steady stream of smoke into the night. Somewhere, a pack of wolves howled their triumph at the night. A few of the horses neighed in apprehension, though they were all safely tucked in their stalls for the night.

Once, Arthur wondered why the world didn’t move fast enough. Now, he begged every moment to linger. Now, he couldn’t get enough of those moments.

The door shut softly behind him. Arthur didn’t bother turning around; the hand that snaked over his shoulder was as familiar as the beat of his own heart.

“Thought I might find you out here,” Clara murmured.

Arthur took another pull on the cigarette. He sighed out the bitterness and tossed the butt off the porch and onto the ground below.

Clara leaned on the railing beside him. She hadn’t changed much, Arthur thought as he looked at her. Moonlight punched through the night and draped across her like a shroud. Even now, her green eyes still retained their firmness. Some of the strands of her red-brown hair had faded to gray over the last few years.

He brushed his fingers along the ridge of his scalp. Arthur didn’t need to look in the mirror to know the roots there would be touched with the same gray as Clara.

She crossed her arms and watched him. “We made the final alterations. Abigail didn’t have to let much out, thank goodness, and I was able to hem it.” Clara sighed wearily and shrugged. “At least, I think I did.”

Arthur braced his hands on the railing and forced his eyes to the distant mountains. His stomach twisted violently, and his heart felt shriveled with apprehension.

Clara laid her hand over his. She gave it a squeeze and looked at her husband with the same sad fondness they’d shared over the last few months.

“He’ll take good care of her, Arthur,” she said softly.

Arthur didn’t think he could breathe. He might never take another full breath for the rest of his life, however long that might be. He wrapped his fingers around the wood beneath his palms until his knuckles were as white as the hair that proclaimed his age.

Annie was getting married.

_Married_. Arthur wanted to be happy, but he couldn’t sort through the mess of tangled feelings that had pervaded his heart since the engagement. Marriage meant that she was a woman now, fully grown and capable of living the life they’d both fought so hard to give her.

But it also meant that Annie wasn’t his little girl anymore—not in the same way he wanted. Marriage meant that Annie would leave them—leave _him_—and start a new chapter with her husband. Marriage meant children, which meant…

Arthur pressed his eyes closed and rode out the wave of nausea that spiked through him.

His daughter was getting _married_, and she wouldn’t be his anymore.

He hadn’t told Clara, but he’d spent the last weeks looking for any excuse to ban the marriage from happening. The dark corners of Arthur’s thoughts that he’d suppressed since becoming a husband and a father relished all the ways he could covet his daughter just a bit longer.

Arthur straightened and, keeping his gaze on the landscape beyond their porch, said gruffly, “Yeah, but his father—”

Clara retracted her hand and frowned at him. “Arthur. That’s not fair and you know it.”

He sighed and hung his head. It wasn’t fair; it wasn’t even rational, but he had to try.

“I know, I know,” Arthur replied. He let out a shuddering, staggered breath. “But she’s my little girl.”

He hated how strangled with sorrow the words were. His chest ached as he pulled in a sharp lungful of night air in an effort to quell his tremulous emotions.

Clara sidled a bit closer. She leaned forward and peered at Arthur, her eyes sharp with focus. “And she always will be. But you’ve known Jack his entire life. And you know we aren’t our parents.”

Sometimes Arthur wondered why his wife insisted on being so sensible and level-headed. It was infuriating, especially now, when all he wanted was for her to tell him he didn’t have to let Annie go.

It was selfish, caustic, and bitter of him to feel that way. Suddenly, Arthur wasn’t so sure that he wasn’t unlike his father.

He turned his head slightly to look at her. “You sure about that?”

Clara sighed. Then she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. Arthur put his arm around her shoulders. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and breathed in the familiar scent of lavender and mint.

“Do you remember the day she fell off Bear?”

The memory shot through him like a bullet. Arthur didn’t think he could ever forget that day: the terror, the anger he’d felt at himself, the way Annie had cried and clutched desperately at him.

Clara rubbed a hand along his back. “You scooped her up and carried her into the house without a second thought. You bandaged her up and sat with her all night and all day.” She straightened a bit and brushed her fingers against his cheek.

Arthur looked at her and fell into the comfort he found in her verdant gaze.

“But most of all,” Clara continued with a small grin, “you were the first one to push her to get back in the saddle. You held her hand and told her she could do anything.”

Arthur nodded. That had been true then and it still was now. Somehow, he’d managed to raise a daughter that bore only hope in a vastly shifting world. He’d marveled at the way his girl could find the best in anyone and in any situation. She had never let anything hold her back and Arthur knew he could rest easy at night knowing that she would never settle for less than what she deserved.

Unlike her father, who had once been twisted into something feral and evil by his own father.

Clara pressed her palm to his cheek and forced him to look at her. “You aren’t Lyle, Arthur. You never were, you certainly aren’t now, and you never will be.”

And, like he’d done so many times before, Arthur believed her.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her close. Arthur wrapped both of his arms around her, desperate for her closeness and her warmth. Clara laid her head on his chest and slowly, reassuringly, rubbed his back.

But it still didn’t change one very important fact.

“I don’t think I can let her go,” he whispered against her hair. “Not even to Jack.”

“But you aren’t letting her go,” Clara reasoned. “You’re just reminding her of the same thing you’ve done every day since the day she was born—she can do anything, and you’ll always be there to hold her hand.”

Maybe she was right.

Maybe Annie’s marriage to Jack Marston wasn’t quite the crisis Arthur made it out to be.

He’d made a promise to her the day she was born: Arthur would always protect her, no matter the cost. It didn’t matter that Annie wouldn’t have his last name anymore. She would always be his girl, just as he would always be her daddy.

And, if Jack ever hurt his little girl—if he even _thought_ of saying or doing anything that might upset her—then Arthur would kill him.

It was a small comfort. And, besides, Arthur wouldn’t really do it.

Probably.

Clara pushed away and looked up at him.

Tears blossomed in the corners of her eyes.

Clara blinked them away and took a breath. Arthur cupped her face in his hands and gently swiped his thumbs along her eyes to catch her tears. She reached up her hands and wrapped her fingers around Arthur’s wrists.

He kissed her.

She’d brought him back to life all those years ago. She’d led him toward living a life he’d long since stopped believing was his to have. But most of all, she’d give him Annie. In three days, he'd give their daughter away to the boy--no, the _man_\--best suited to take care of her. But that didn't mean Arthur wouldn't keep a close eye on them. It didn't mean that he wouldn't still be there on the nights when the monsters were too much for her to keep at bay. Arthur would always be there, hand outstretched, waiting for his girl to take hold.

Even the threat of a swiftly changing world wasn’t enough to change that.


End file.
